


Third Time Lucky

by sunlit



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlit/pseuds/sunlit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A junior doctor fresh out of Seoul, Myungsoo finds himself entangled in the web of his new Busan lifestyle, sleep cycles gone astray and quite by chance, love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Time Lucky

Safe to say, for someone who was brought up on Seoul’s frantic pulse and whose daily panorama included the sprawling alleyways of Myeongdong and top-notch architecture of Apgujeong, Myungsoo wouldn’t have pegged the outskirts of Busan as his first choice for his internship as a junior doctor.

He breezes through the automatic glass doors of Busan Medical Centre without any expectations. He doesn’t have a bar set for what Busan should be like or what Busan should be able to offer him. He doesn’t know what he’ll find. Myungsoo reminds himself that he’s here for a job, and hopefully, with the right combination of luck, effort and getting into somebody’s good books, he’ll be able to go further in South Korea’s cutthroat medical industry. Back to Seoul, if he wanted, or maybe overseas, if the opportunity arises in the future.

Myungsoo is, above many things, an ambitious person who is more than determined not to let the past seven years of his life in med school go to waste or even be remotely jeopardised, so he’d done his homework prior to reporting for work today. He runs the facts over in his head one more time as he dodges doctors whizzing past him and nurses precariously balancing everything from laundry and clipboards to trays of food and medicine.

Busan Medical Centre is a startup institution established a year and a half ago, made possible by a renowned author of several critically-acclaimed medical journals on his deathbed. Currently, the centre has yet to break into the medical market per se, but it’s the newest of its kind here in Busan and is located as close to a cluster of residential areas as the law would allow. Geographically, Myungsoo reasons, its location was strategic enough. With a big name backing them and just enough patients, Busan Medical Centre has been dubbed a promising prospect and investment, for both its board of directors and for people like Myungsoo.

There are plenty of reasons why working for a startup is better than an established, big-name hospital. Myungsoo lays out his cards in his head as he steps into the elevator and makes his way to the third floor - among them is the competition that he really could do without. Housemanship was tough, but he knows that internship in Seoul would be ten times the cutthroat suffering he’d had to endure.

“Hold the door!” A man bolts into the elevator, the tail of his trench coat narrowly missing the closing doors of the elevator. The stranger leans against the opposite wall, mirroring Myungsoo’s actions as he rests his head on the smooth wood behind him, hands in his coat pockets and a pair of headphones slung around his neck. His eyes seem to take Myungsoo in from head to toe, but they contained neither blankness nor malice, merely genuine curiosity.

Myungsoo tilts his head in acknowledgement. “You here to visit somebody?”

“Something like that.” The man smiles in reply, eyes twinkling, far too jovial for somebody who’s visiting a patient. Myungsoo gives him the benefit of the doubt; he could be a happy person by nature.

A ding! sounds in both their ears as the elevator doors part to the sixth floor. Myungsoo nods again to signal his departure. “You’re interning, right? Good luck!” The boy’s voice reaches him just as he rounds the corner, and by the time Myungsoo retraces his steps to thank him, the counter above the elevator already reads ‘7’ in bright red.

Myungsoo shrugs and lets it slide. Whoever he’s visiting, Myungsoo wishes him well.

 

◇

 

“Doctor Lee is ready for you,” one of the nurses chirp, poking her head out from behind the door of the doctor’s office. Myungsoo does a final one-over of himself, checking his nametag and the folds of his coat before stepping into the office.

A man who seems to be in his early fifties sits behind a wooden desk, fingers clasped on the smooth surface. Myungsoo stops in the middle of the room and bows low. At a glance, Myungsoo could tell that the doctor is no pushover - he’s had years' worth of experience in the industry and has probably seen hundreds of interns just like him. Doctor Lee Ki-ho, according to the letter of assignment he’d received, but if Myungsoo were to put a face to the name, he never would’ve pictured a man like this.

Truth be told, Myungsoo had imagined a curt, possibly elderly man, sharply dressed and stern with his words and instructions. Doctor Lee Ki-ho, however, is wearing his doctor’s coat over a round-neck T-shirt and dark jeans. His hair is grayish-black and he waves dismissively at Myungsoo, who definitely wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome. “Don’t be so formal, it takes away from the working atmosphere!” he chastises, somewhat playfully.

Myungsoo apologises out of habit and introduces himself. Doctor Lee tosses him a soda and listens intently. “You did your housemanship at Seoul GH, eh? That place is crazy,” he takes a sip of his coffee, “There’s competition even among the permanent doctors. They centralise so many specialists that it ends up becoming a wrestle for dominance in terms of stats; not a pretty place to be, honestly. Busan’s much quieter.”

 _Is that why you moved here?_ is on the tip of Myungsoo’s tongue, but he chooses to leave the question for another day. He regards one of the photo frames perched on Doctor Lee’s desk. It’s one of only two photographs, the other being a group picture of hospital staff. The photo shows a substantially younger Doctor Lee, crouching next to a toddler and smiling brightly at the camera. “Is this your son?” he asks, hoping to prolong the conversation.

Doctor Lee nods. “Yep, my only kid. That was years ago, though, and he’s much bigger now. Little brat’s taller than me by a head or more already, I think.” He makes a face, to which Myungsoo chuckles.

“C’mon, it’s almost 9:00 am. Let’s get you familiar with the centre and your batchmates.”

Myungsoo quite likes Busan already.

 

◇

 

It’s been an all-around okay first day. Busan Medical Centre is a lot larger than it appears on the outside - Myungsoo was made to memorise each floor and wing and ‘at least have a vague idea of which doctors are on which floors so you don’t have to wander around the hospital like a lost puppy!’.

Doctor Lee had taken him around to four other doctor’s offices to meet the other junior doctors that would be in the same internship batch with him - there was the quiet, studious Lee Howon, obnoxiously loud but personable Nam Woohyun, serious and kindly Kim Sunggyu, and the oldest, most rambunctious of the lot, Jang Dongwoo. They’d had lunch together in the cafeteria, sharing a little about their backgrounds and ending the session with a discussion about their hellish med school years.

Myungsoo had found them relatable and nice enough, and he distinctly remembers leaving the cafeteria with a smile on his face and gratefulness for the companions he’s managed to find.

Now, though, with Woohyun’s arm slung around his shoulder and Dongwoo rambling about a ‘fantabulous’ club in town, Myungsoo’s not entirely sure. “Guys,” Howon says, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, “we’re still working tomorrow! It’s gonna be an early morning and it’s not even Frid--” Dongwoo cuts him off by slapping him hard on the back. “It’s a celebration for us surviving our first day at the hospital, man! Loosen up!”

Woohyun echoes his thoughts out loud and Sunggyu just looks resigned. When prodded, he explains that he’s done this once with his housemanship - his batchmates had all gone out for a drink after their first day as well - and that he’d been the only one with enough common sense to stay sober so he could drive back home. “I’ll be your designated driver or cab-hailer or whatever, just... yep,” he trails off awkwardly, patting Myungsoo on the back.

Dongwoo and Woohyun haul them all into Velvet, the hottest new drinking joint in town that the lifestyle magazines still haven’t stopped fawning over, four months into their establishment. “Are you sure about this?” Myungsoo half-yells at Woohyun over the music, bass thumping furiously in his ears. His question goes unheard and unanswered as Woohyun saunters into the crowd, tackling a few of the waitresses as he makes his way to the bar, undoubtedly.

Howon is being led away by Dongwoo and Sunggyu is nowhere to be seen, so Myungsoo decides to head for the opposite side of the bar and try his luck at staying out of the club action till the rest of them have had their fix. The bar itself is pretty, a prism of colour when the lights overhead shine down on it. Myungsoo settles himself on a stool and looks at the list of drinks embossed into a metal plate hanging against the wall - the selection of drinks is so comprehensive (and exorbitantly priced) that Myungsoo does several double takes.

Myungsoo has no idea what to order, so he randomly picks one and regrets it almost immediately after. The drink is a cool blue with orange swirls, and he has no idea what went into the zesty yet bittersweet drink, but he downs it all anyway. He’s beginning to feel lightheaded already and he has half a mind to question the bartender about the kind of alcohol he used, but Myungsoo’s stopped short by somebody pushing his cocktail glass away from him.

He looks up through hazy eyes to make out a mop of messy black hair. “Two Golden Triangles, please, one for me and the dying gentleman over here,” a male voice politely tells the bartender, its speaker plopping into the seat next to Myungsoo.

“Who...?” Myungsoo asks, his speech stilted and words slurred.

The man snorts, a picture of calm. “Your alcohol tolerance sucks for a grown man.” Myungsoo feels cold glass between his fingertips and realises a pretty-looking, sparkling drink has been slipped into his hand. “Bottoms up,” the man says, to which the both of them down the liquid in their glasses in one shot.

Myungsoo clicks his tongue, the drink much too sweet for him, a dormant memory coming to him all of a sudden. “You’re that guy from the elevator,” he slurs, pointing an accusatory finger at the stranger in front of him.

“Sure, and you’re wasted.”

What could possibly have been two, twenty or two hundred shots after, everything becomes a terrible blur to Myungsoo. He isn’t sure what up or down is anymore and quite frankly, he doesn’t care; all he does care about are the fingers dancing across his skin, leaving trails that burned like ice and sent the best chills down his spine. He’s vaguely aware of a pair of lips leaving his, pressing open-mouthed kisses against his neck, then his shoulder blades, then his torso, and oh _god_ \--- sending all his blood pumping down south. Myungsoo’s back leaves the cold, rough surface of what might’ve been a brick wall, replaced by the dull pain of angry fingernails raking against his back. Somebody is crying into his ear, although he can’t quite make out anything else but his name, his dick enveloped in a strange but exhilarating heat.

It’s hot, it’s cold, it’s fiery, it’s chilling, it’s titillating and needy at the same time, and---

 

◇

 

A loud, shrill yelp jolts Myungsoo awake from his sleep. He’s never been too much of a morning person, and _fuck_ , does his head hurt. Some aspirin would do him good right about now, instead of high-pitched screams and nonsensical babbling and---

“Who the hell---?!” Myungsoo hisses, scrambling out of bed frantically. The lower half of his body feels unnaturally cold, and when he realises his state of undress, he dives for the sheets and pulls them up till they cover him again.

Someone is gripping the other half of the sheets, eyes the size of saucers and quaking with shock. He jabs an accusatory finger at Myungsoo and keeps his distance like Myungsoo was carrying the plague. “What are you doing in my bed?!” he all but yells.

Myungsoo gawks, rather ungracefully at that. "Who are you and what makes you think this is your--- oh." He belatedly sees that the sheets he's holding up are a deep, Prussian blue, not his usual ivory cream, so he leaves his argument unfinished.

All of a sudden, a wave of astounding clarity washes over Myungsoo, who puts his face in his hands. "You're the boy from the elevator, and the boy from the club yesterday... oh god," he mumbles, almost resignedly, as the realisation of what probably transpired the night before hits them like a tidal wave.

The boy scoffs, almost appalled, all traces of his initial surprise dissipating into thin air. "Boy? How old are you, even?"

"Are you really worrying about that right now?"

"Damn right."

"If you have to know, I'm 25 this year," Myungsoo says, rolling his eyes.

The boy smiles smugly. "Well, I'm 26, so you lose," he sing-songs.

"This wasn't even a game to begin with," Myungsoo says incredulously, but he's surprised nonetheless - the boy looks younger than him, despite his tall and lanky frame.

A snort comes in reply. "We've met twice and uh, you probably fucked me till oblivion last night because I feel really sore right now, and I still don't know your name. That's a pretty good recap about everything that's happened, I think. Anyway," he extends a hand to Myungsoo, "I'm Lee Sungyeol."

Myungsoo scrunches his nose. "Did you really have to put it like that? I was drunk. _We_ were drunk." Sungyeol mumbles something that sounded suspiciously like 'serious-faced douche' and 'low alcohol tolerance', to which Myungsoo only rolls his eyes. He looks away, but gives in and shakes Sungyeol's hand. "Kim Myungsoo."

"Your name sounds vaguely familiar."

"Oh, does it? I wonder why... maybe because you read it off my nametag in the elevator yesterday," Myungsoo counters sarcastically.

Sungyeol takes a moment to think up a comeback, but he hits a dead end and instead gives Myungsoo a small smile. "The sex last night was amazing, by the way."

Myungsoo is hard-pressed to resist the tiny grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then, all of a sudden, "Oh fuck, what time is it?" he asks frantically, pushing past Sungyeol to look at the clock by the bedstand. In bright green digits, the display reads 8:17, less than an hour to the start of his official working hours.

In between panicked cries of "It's so late!", "Howon was right!" and "Sunggyu, that bastard!", Myungsoo manages to retrieve his clothes from under the bed and tosses them on hurriedly, borrowing Sungyeol's bathroom. He hurtles down the stairs as quickly as his legs would allow, then yells, "How long does it take to get from your place to the medical centre?"

Sungyeol emerges from the kitchen in a casual shirt and jeans, tossing him a slice of toast and grabbing his car keys on the way out. "I'll drive you; it'll be worlds faster than you trying to figure out which bus takes you there," he says, and Myungsoo graciously accepts his offer.

Sungyeol isn't a reckless driver, but he somehow manages to weave his way through Seoul's insane morning traffic and arrive at the hospital at 8:54, a record 22 minutes. "I guess this is it; thanks," Myungsoo says breathlessly, straightening out the creases in his coat and doing a final one-over of himself in the mirror before jumping out of the car. He's too short of breath and time to say anything else, so he hopes his short thank you would be able to convey his gratefulness for Sungyeol's help.

"I accept tips if you're feeling generous."

Myungsoo slams the car door shut in his face.

Thankfully, the elevator doesn't make any stops on its way to the third floor, and Myungsoo clocks in at 8:58. His arrival at the interns' office is preceded by catcalls of "Look who made it!" and "On a scale of 1 to mindblowing, how hot was it yesterday night?". Sunggyu is smirking amusedly at him, and Howon looks like he's trying very hard to blink a hangover out of his eyes.

Myungsoo promptly ignores them for the rest of the day, giving in slightly only when Dongwoo gives him an apologetic bite of his scrumptious turkey sandwich.

 

◇

 

Myungsoo alternates between looking at the piece of note paper in his hands and the seemingly endless labyrinth of shop lots. Earlier in the evening, he'd asked Sungjong over at the front desk for good coffee joints nearby. Myungsoo's always loved his regular dose of caffeine, and he figures he might as well know where to find coffee now than end up miserable in the middle of a long shift with nothing but the mediocre canned coffee from the vending machine on the ground floor.

Sungjong had hastily sketched out a map from the medical centre to the nearby SOHO complex, where apparently one of the best cafes in Busan is located. True enough, Myungsoo does find it as per the map given to him - a dainty establishment with heavy emphasis on light wood and dark furniture. The cafe seems to glow with a homely warmth, the rich aroma of coffee permeating Myungsoo's senses, the interior lit just enough with soft, glowing lamps. It isn't crowded either, only a few office workers probably finishing off their last bits of work for the day and a teenage couple chatting quietly in a corner.

Fishing around in his pocket for his wallet, Myungsoo makes his way to the counter to place his order. He decides to go with his usual. "Caramel macchiato, please."

"Sure. Any toppings for you, sir?" the barista asks, somewhat bored.

Myungsoo freezes and looks up - he's heard too much of this voice over the past few days not to recognise it. Standing on the other side of the counter, in the cafe's black uniform, is Lee Sungyeol, one hand on the cash register and mouth gaping wide.

"What are you doing here," Myungsoo hisses, punctuating every word with a pause.

Sungyeol laughs softly, spreading his arms wide. "Welcome to the land of coffee, where I reign supreme! I work here, genius."

Myungsoo presses a hand against the side of his face. "You're really embarrassing, you know that?" Sungyeol makes a non-committal grunt and presses him to answer his question about toppings. "Please have a seat, sir, your order will be served shortly," Sungyeol says, in a mock-regal voice, turning around to begin work on the macchiato.

Myungsoo bites his bottom lip in a feeble attempt to hide the grin growing on his face.

 

◇

 

Not ten minutes later, Sungyeol slips into the seat opposite Myungsoo, pushing a freshly-made caramel macchiato towards him. Myungsoo takes the cup and moves to take a sip, but stops when he notices Sungyeol is no longer wearing his worker’s uniform, but a simple V-neck (that accentuates the collarbones Myungsoo had so hungrily grazed his teeth against just last night) and skinny jeans.

“What, is it tradition here for workers to sit down and entertain customers?” Myungsoo asks, relishing the cool liquid coursing down his throat when he takes a hearty sip of his drink. He won’t tell a single soul, but if anything, Sungyeol is one hell of an amazing barista.

Sungyeol shrugs, crossing his arms. He gestures towards the clock behind the counter. “Nope, but the cafe does hold to the practice of letting its part-timers off the job when their shifts are over,” he says, cheekily.

“What do y--- oh,” Myungsoo finishes rather ungracefully (yet again), noticing the blonde girl that had replaced Sungyeol’s position behind the counter, cleaning the muffin display. “That’s really annoying, y’know, this whole I’m-smarter-than-you sarcasm thing you have going on,” he adds, eyebrows furrowing.

Sungyeol laughs, a pretty, soothing sound that throws Myungsoo a little off-guard. “Hey, I’m not the one who probably did long years in med school and was posted to Busan even though he grew up in the city.”

At this, Myungsoo raises an eyebrow. They’ve only just met yesterday - the first time a coincidence in the elevator, the second a drunken tryst that had spiralled out of control, and the third here in the cafe. Sungyeol might’ve figured out he was interning at the medical centre by the pin on his coat, but Myungsoo is sure he hasn’t divulged anything about his background. He considers the possibility that he’d let it slip during their one-night-stand, but he figures Sungyeol would’ve been too drunk to remember that either. Genuinely curious, he asks, “How did you know... that I come from the city?”

Sungyeol tilts his head, as if regarding Myungsoo, taking in all he’s worth. “That’s the thing about you science kids. You only look at the facts and what should be right by theory. You learn a lot of things by observing too, you know.” His abrupt transition from playful to serious startles Myungsoo, who presses him for further explanation.

Sungyeol leans forward and gestures for Myungsoo to come closer, resting his weight on his elbows. “I observe... that you have a Seoul accent,” he whispers, in all seriousness, before bursting into a fit of quiet giggles, clutching at his stomach.

Myungsoo abruptly pulls away and glowers at him. “You dick.”

“You liked my dick enough to talk about it in the open? I’m both impressed and flattered,” Sungyeol says, wiping an imaginary tear out of the corner of his eye, leaning back in his seat and smiling proudly, almost as if the conversation between them is entirely normal for two people who barely know each other.

Sputtering, Myungsoo nearly chokes on his macchiato. “Could you really not?! We’re in public!” Then, in a low whisper, he says, “That was a one-night-stand, idiot!”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were an overzealous stalker who’s after me, given the number of times we’ve met by chance.”

“You wish you had a stalker.”

Sungyeol sticks his tongue out at Myungsoo. “Actually, no, I don’t; that’s kind of creepy.”

“Are you really 26?” Frustration begins to creep its way into Myungsoo’s voice, but strangely, he doesn’t feel annoyed. It’s actually quite the breather.

“I could show you my identity card if you really want to know.”

Myungsoo huffs at that, occupying himself with the swirls of caramel in his cup. He sneaks a glance at Sungyeol, who’s watching him intently. “W-well, you know a fair bit about me, for somebody I’ve only slept with for one night,” he says begrudgingly. “So it’s only right that you tell me a bit about yourself.”

Sungyeol whistles. “Careful, I might take that as a flirting attempt. Do you want to get to know me better?” he teases, propping his face up in his hands and flipping his bangs out of the way, a mischievous smirk lingering on his lips.

Throwing his hands in the air, Myungsoo groans. “That’s it, nevermind, forget I ever asked.”

Sungyeol laughs again. “Just messin’ with you. I do psychology,” he says, sincerity in his voice, and that manages to win Myungsoo’s attention. “I work with a freelance team, but we usually go to schools and give counselling sessions to the troubled kids. Sometimes, we do team building courses for corporate offices and the like.”

Surprise crosses Myungsoo’s features. He never would’ve pegged Sungyeol as the kind of person to do anything like psychology - drama and theatre, maybe. Music, possibly. “My job’s kind of flexible, so I part-time to make extra money when no one’s asking for us,” Sungyeol continues. Without meaning to, Myungsoo lets slip a compliment about Sungyeol’s coffee-making skills, earning himself a soft, gentle smile.

“Some one-night-stand, huh?” Sungyeol murmurs, turning to gaze out the glass doors of the tiny establishment. They’re slightly misted from the cold weather, but Myungsoo can still see the cars whizzing by, the sidewalk illuminated by the tall streetlamps. “We’re not supposed to have anything to do with each other anymore, but here we are, talking about ourselves over coffee.”

The implied _Careful, this could turn into something more, are you willing to risk it? goes unsaid and unaddressed_.

The smile on Sungyeol’s face widens when he tells Myungsoo that the coffee is on him. Myungsoo smiles back, a tiny one, but he hopes the way his breath hitches in his throat when his eyes land on Sungyeol’s defined yet soft features goes unnoticed.

 

◇

 

Weeks pass in a blur for Myungsoo - he develops a routine of sorts, day in, day out. Being a junior doctor proves just as difficult as housemanship, if not even more challenging. Granted, Myungsoo considers himself luckier than most; Doctor Lee is both understanding and helpful when it comes to interning issues, and he’d even treated Myungsoo to _samgyetang_ (“My kid made this!”) once during a particularly trying weekend that involved a stretch of three days with an hour or two of sleep. Highlights include becoming particularly fond of a young girl who’d been hospitalised with a bad stomach ulcer, Woohyun getting into trouble for arriving three hours late and a small surprise birthday party for Sungjong, the receptionist, who’d befriended Myungsoo and the other intern doctors.

He alternates between morning and night shifts, a true test of his stamina, but regardless of his schedule, he makes sure to get his regular fix of coffee at the cafe where Sungyeol works. Sungyeol had let slip that he works the evenings - if Myungsoo has the morning shift, he stops by on the way home from the medical centre; if Myungsoo is on the night shift, he drops by on his way to work. He’s graduated from caramel macchiato to a variety of other coffee by Sungyeol’s recommendation, and at the same time, they’ve graduated from one-night fuck buddies---

_“I thought you said you weren’t going to come back anymore,” Sungyeol comments offhandedly as he does a quick wipe-down of the counter while waiting for Myungsoo’s coffee to brew. Myungsoo scowls at the playful glint in his eyes, but his fingers tighten around his briefcase._

_“I don’t think what you and I have has anything to do with me wanting good coffee.”_

_Sungyeol whistles and bends down to retrieve a cup from under the counter. “So you think I make good coffee?” he asks, rolling back his sleeves._

_“If you didn’t make good coffee, then you shouldn’t be here,” Myungsoo deadpans. He props his elbows on the counter and munches lightly on his sandwich while waiting. “Any cafe would go out of business if its baristas didn’t know how to make coffee.”_

_“Okay. So what is it that you and I have?” Myungsoo cheeks burn furiously the moment Sungyeol poses the question, and he nearly chokes on the food in his mouth. “Killer sex?” Sungyeol presses on, putting the final touches on the coffee before serving it with a smile that says he’s having a ton of fun watching Myungsoo being the most flustered person on earth._

_Myungsoo hurriedly presses his hand against Sungyeol’s mouth and hisses, “Could you really just put your mouth to better use?! Like not reference sex every other minute?”_

_“Like giving you head?”_

_“I swear---”_

_“I might not remember much from that night, but I definitely remember you begging me for it.”_

_Myungsoo downs his coffee at one go, ignoring the scalding sensation coursing down his throat. Out of a lack of witty responses to come back with, he half-yells, “You weren’t even that good!” and storms out of the cafe._

_At the pedestrian crossing outside, Myungsoo buries his face in one hand and runs his fingers through his hair after, fanning the heat away from his face. Admittedly, he doesn’t remember much either, but he does remember mewling filthily when Sungyeol’s lips brushed against the head of his cock. The whole affair was messy, but definitely the most amazing sensation he’s ever felt in his life. Sungyeol is surprisingly prodigious at this._

to friends---

_Sungyeol plops down in the seat opposite Myungsoo and stretches his lanky limbs. (Myungsoo pretends not to notice the beautiful curve of his neck or the extension of his arms.) “Wanna go to the IT fair with me this weekend? My brother was supposed to go with me, but he has softball practice so he bailed.”_

_Myungsoo weighs his options. He doesn’t have anything better to do this weekend, unless lounging over at Howon’s place watching old soccer games and street dance competitions counted as productive. Just for kicks though, because he never gives in easily to Sungyeol, he asks, “What makes you think I’m interested in IT?”_

_“You don’t look like you can use computers at all, actually.” Sungyeol snorts derisively._

_Myungsoo’s adamant protests that his computer skills are enough to get him by are cut short when Sungyeol asks, “What do you do on a computer, usually?”_

_The question disarms Myungsoo, so he answers in a straightforward manner. “I do my work. Spreadsheets and letters, I guess.”_

_“I mean like non-work-related things.”_

_“I... surf the net sometimes.”_

_“And?”_

_Myungsoo blinks. “That’s it.”_

_Sungyeol looks absolutely crushed, but then he laughs. “Okay, so you really can’t do anything with computers,” he manages between a fit of giggles, which Myungsoo vehemently tries to deny. “But you can still go to the IT fair to unwind! And besides, you’re keeping a friend company, you’re doing a good deed,” he finishes, smiling proudly._

_Myungsoo already has ‘yes’ on the tip of his tongue, but he lets Sungyeol attempt to convince him for 20 minutes before he finally agrees to the weekend outing. A friend, Sungyeol had said, and Myungsoo quite likes the sound of that. A tingling sensation rises in the back of his throat when Sungyeol pats him on the back and excuses himself, reminding Myungsoo to be at the station on Saturday morning. Myungsoo can’t deny that ‘friends’ sounds great, but he can’t help wondering if anything more than that would sound even better._

to--- he’s not quite sure what they are.

_Myungsoo shuffles a little closer to Sungyeol, away from the cold rain pelting against the sidewalk and against his skin. He mentally chastises himself for not remembering his umbrella today, of all days - the stretch without rain here in Busan has lulled him into false security. Not bringing an umbrella means one less thing to carry to work, after all._

_He grumbles at his wet sleeve; no matter how close they’re pressed up against each other, Sungyeol’s umbrella can only shield so much from the rain. “Couldn’t your umbrella be a little bigger?” he sighs resignedly._

_Sungyeol scoffs loudly over the water pelting against the canvas. “Couldn’t you have brought your umbrella to work instead of whining like a girl now? Not my fault you forgot!” he shoots back. Regardless, he does tilt the umbrella a little over Myungsoo’s side to shelter him from the rain._

_They collectively agree to sprint the last stretch of road because fending off the wind has grown increasingly tiring. Sungyeol flicks his head a little to get as much rain out of his hair as possible, basking in the warmth and shelter of the threshold of Myungsoo’s rented house. “Thanks for walking me home, Yeol,” Myungsoo says, exhausted, leaning against the doorframe and shutting his eyes briefly._

_When Myungsoo opens his eyes, Sungyeol is squeezing water globules out of Myungsoo’s hair. “You’ve got so much wa---” Sungyeol stops when he realises just how close they are. This close, Sungyeol is even more beautiful than Myungsoo would’ve ever dared to imagine: his jet black hair is glossy with water and plastered to his face, his eyes are twinkling softly, his plush lips are parted ever so slightly in surprise, his fair skin aglow. Myungsoo feels rather appalled with himself for not noticing this earlier._

_Without thinking, Myungsoo fits his hand against the curve of Sungyeol’s neck and presses their lips together, relishing in the familiar fire that ignites in the back of his mind when Sungyeol kisses back, hot and cold at the same time. Just as Sungyeol’s lips push against his, desperate for more, Myungsoo breaks the kiss, breathing ragged and uneven as he stares into the depths of Sungyeol’s eyes, dark and clouded over._

_“Can I come in?” Sungyeol murmurs in a low voice._

_Myungsoo pulls him through the door wordlessly._

 

◇

 

It’s nearing Christmas, and the medical centre plans to have one last team building and motivational course to wrap up the year. Myungsoo would’ve thought that months of waking up early and having his sleeping cycle thrown into complete disarray would help him ease into not getting enough sleep, but he’s still having just as much trouble as ever dragging himself out of bed in the mornings.

He rolls over to find a note on his nightstand. It reads:

_You fell asleep so early, I didn’t get to say bye - I have a job tomorrow morning, so I have to leave early. Your breakfast is in the microwave, just turn it on. You can thank me tomorrow, I think you’ll be pretty surprised ;) See you!_

_\- S_

Myungsoo figures the note is from yesterday, given Sungyeol seems to have left, so he reluctantly picks himself off his bed and down to the kitchen. He has no idea what Sungyeol meant by him being surprised today - probably another one of his new coffee creations that made the menu at the cafe. He makes a mental note to ask Sungyeol about that later when he drops by to get his things or when Myungsoo makes a detour to the cafe.

 

◇

 

Howon meets him at the entrance of the medical centre, having arrived slightly later than usual today because he missed the first bus. “You look like you could use an energiser,” Howon remarks as they step into the elevator together. Myungsoo laughs dryly, but Howon’s right; he’s looking forward to the weekend because his shift will be significantly shorter than it’s been of late. “Right back at you. We all could use a break, honestly.”

“So how goes the kid you’ve been seeing?” Howon asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as a knowing grin spreads across his face. “You should bring him over sometime; Dongwoo and Woohyun would have a field day. Make sure he doesn’t have any compromising photos of you or they’re gonna use it to blackmail you to your deathbed,” he adds.

Myungsoo grins back at him, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Funny, Howon. He’s a prissy brat sometimes but he makes me breakfast and he’s a funny guy, so we’re good. Oh, and he’s 26, so he’s not a kid. He has to verbally remind me every day.”

“What does he do, though? Like is he in university?”

“He works at the coffee place Sungjong likes going to in the morning. That’s his part-time job; he’s with a freelance psychology team or something, the kind that goes to schools and stuff.”

Howon nods attentively. “Speaking of psychology teams, you all ready for the motivational course today?” he says, in a sickly sweet voice, sarcastic enthusiasm permeating his every word.

“Couldn’t be more excited, ranger,” Myungsoo answers in the same tone, and they both laugh.

Sunggyu has taken the liberty of reserving seats for the both of them in the conference room. They thank him and settle into their seats. Myungsoo takes a look around; the room is filled with junior doctors, some of whom Myungsoo recognises from working the same shift, and the others, new faces. At the front of the room, Doctor Lee and a few other senior doctors are sitting at what he supposes is the supervising panel’s table, discussing lightly amongst themselves.

Just after Dongwoo and Woohyun join them at their table, Doctor Park, whom Myungsoo vaguely remembers is the oncologist whose office Myungsoo had visited only once, to pass him some documents, proceeds to the podium. “Good morning, junior doctors. Today, as I’m sure you’ve all been informed, a team of psychologists specialising in team building and motivational courses has been invited to the medical centre today to hold a workshop. This will be the last one of the year - think of it as something to mull over during Christmas. The workshop will go on till lunchtime, after which you will return to your respective departments. This team has been invited to numerous higher institutions and even corporate offices to hold courses, but this is their first time in a hospital. As a matter of fact, their lead speaker today is the son of our very own Doctor Lee. Do put your hands together for Lee Sungyeol, ladies and gentlemen.”

Amidst the applause in the room, Myungsoo feels his blood run cold. _Doctor Lee’s... son?_

Howon puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, when Myungsoo puts his face in his hands weakly.

He almost whimpers. “Howon, he’s the guy I’m dating.”

 

◇

 

Despite Myungsoo’s horror at the knowledge that he’s dating his supervising consultant’s son, Myungsoo does try his best to pay attention throughout the course. He’s genuinely curious as to how Sungyeol is during his sessions, given he’s only ever seen Sungyeol do impersonal barista work. Sungyeol is surprisingly good with words and has an easygoing, convincing way of speaking. He breaks his points gently to the audience - he doesn’t present like a public speaker, and Myungsoo supposes this is in part thanks to his extensive work with children and teenagers - but he’s lively enough to keep the audience attentive and awake. Myungsoo smiles when he notices Sungyeol’s hand gestures; they’re very much like the ones Sungyeol uses when they hang out together. He appreciates the witty jokes, puns and one-liners Sungyeol pulls sometimes, some of which have even the senior doctors doubling over in laughter.

“Okay,” Sungyeol says, after a particularly funny joke, “how many of you can honestly, honestly tell me you feel entirely motivated to be a doctor just because you want to help somebody?”

A large portion of the room remains on the fence about the question, whispering amongst themselves, while only one or two junior doctors raise their hands.

Sungyeol tips his head in acknowledgement and proceeds to retrieve a bag of paper flowers. He holds one high up in the air for the entire room to see. “You see this? Each of these flowers have five petals. You each have pens with you; we’re going to give out one flower to each of you, and you have to write down five things you want or treasure in life. Don’t think about it for too long, just write whatever comes to mind!”

Myungsoo stares at his own paper flower and its five petals. Among the things he writes are ‘a successful career’, ‘an actual, bigger house’ and, with a smile on his lips, ‘love’. The conference room becomes a buzz of conversation, with the doctors peering over each other’s shoulders to peek at what they’ve written. When most everyone is done, Sungyeol calls the room to a halt.

“So everyone’s written their five things down?” The room chirps a collective affirmative. “Alright, now pair up with the person next to you. Hold up your flowers, the side with the answers facing you. Take turns with your partner to tear off one petal at a time, until there’s nothing left. Go!”

The situation reminds Myungsoo of high school camp, where everyone is laughing and yelling and having fun in general. Screams along the lines of “You just tore off my house!” and “Why did you have to choose ‘a bigger bank account’ to rip off?!” echo throughout the room. Myungsoo teams up with Dongwoo, who has a blast trying to choose which of the petals to rip off first, and they burst into laughter at the end of it, when they’re left with only the center and stalk.

“You’re all left with only the centers, right? Look at your flowers; aren’t they sad and bare?” One girl voices her agreement with him. “But you see,” Sungyeol says, detaching the microphone from the stand and walking to the very front of the crowd, “this, your flower, is exactly how a patient - especially a terminally ill one - would feel. Bare, empty, devoid of material things.”

The entire room falls into silence.

Myungsoo’s gaze meets Sungyeol’s, his eyes gentle. “Let this be something for you to think about. For those ten minutes, however remote this representation is, you were in your patients’ shoes. You felt only but a little of what they face everyday. And so, it’s up to you, doctors like you, to help them piece the petals of their flowers back together.”

Sungyeol is much more than a pretty face and witty jokes; his words are impactful, purposeful and powerful. Myungsoo has taken a hit, and he knows he’s falling, too hard and too fast.

 

◇

 

“I can’t believe you,” Myungsoo almost cries. Sungyeol had cut his lunch short and dragged him all the way to the medical centre’s rooftop with a huge grin on his face.

“What? I didn’t think you’d be that upset with me wanting to surprise you...”

“No, no, I liked the talk,” Myungsoo admits, earning himself a delighted squeal from Sungyeol. “But Yeol, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I literally just froze up in that room; I’m dating the son of my supervising consultant!”

Sungyeol gawks at him. “What?!”

“What ‘what’, that’s my line!” Myungsoo shoots back, aggravated.

“You didn’t tell me you were my dad’s intern!”

“You didn’t tell me you were his son!”

A loud, deliberate cough interrupts their argument, and they spin around to see Doctor Lee standing by the door to the rooftop. Myungsoo thinks he hears giggles that sound suspiciously like Woohyun and Dongwoo coming from the stairwell, but he opts to ignore them. Instead, he clears his throat and faces what could be the happiest, most playful grin he’s seen on his consultant throughout his entire duration at the medical centre. Doctor Lee gestures towards Sungyeol, “Your team’s looking for you. Apparently the director got lunch for everybody and they’re missing you.”

He crosses his arms, then bursts out laughing. “So this is why you always come home from work smiling. Who would’ve thought, my kid dating my intern.”

“I---”

“Dad,” Sungyeol cuts in, “Can Myungsoo come over for Christmas dinner? Or Boxing Day?”

“I’m working Boxing Day, but sure, he can come over whenever. You go, Myungsoo,” Doctor Lee pats Myungsoo on the back, “I’ve never seen anybody actually put up with this brat.”

At this, Myungsoo’s discomfort dissipates slightly. “I tolerate him, sir, I don’t actually put up with him.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine, kiddo,” Doctor Lee says, laughing brightly. He waves off Sungyeol’s adamant protests and tells him to come to the cafeteria as soon as possible, lest he wants to keep the rest of his teammates waiting, then leaves. (Myungsoo sees two figures peer out at him before running after the doctor - definitely Woohyun and Dongwoo. Those rascals.)

Next to him, Sungyeol lets out a deep breath. “Well, that was weird. That looked like something out of a K-drama - lead boy and lead girl gets caught dating by someone who really shouldn’t have caught us dating,” he comments.

Myungsoo palms his own face, sighing. “This is so taboo.”

Sungyeol grins at him, propping his elbow against the railing. “I’m definitely the lead guy, so you can be the girl. And no, that’s not negotiable.” He clicks his tongue for extra measure. “I meant it though, come over for Christmas and you can meet my brother and sister!” he chirps excitedly.

“I should’ve known. The day we met, when I asked you if you were visiting someone, you said ‘something like that’. You were going to see your dad,” Myungsoo exclaims, realisation dawning on him.

Sungyeol pauses. “You actually remember that...? I only remember we met in an elevator.”

“You’re dumb,” Myungsoo says, but a smile tugs the corners of his mouth up, up, up.

Sungyeol leans in, lips meeting Myungsoo’s briefly. His long arms encircle Myungsoo’s waist, reeling him in closer, smiling just as brightly. The wind is sending their hair flying astray and jackets flapping wildly, but Myungsoo decides he likes this a lot.

“But you like me,” Sungyeol counters.

Myungsoo still isn’t sure what lies ahead in Busan - he hasn’t even been here for a year. But so far, he’s found friends, a good job, fantastic coffee and love, and that’s more than enough for him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written [here](http://infinitesanta.livejournal.com/32866.html) for burningleaf, Infinite Secret Santa 2013 (infinitesanta @ LJ).
> 
> # Seoul General Hospital and Busan Medical Centre are real medical institutions in South Korea. The latter is, however, not a startup organisation and is well-established in Busan.


End file.
